The Promise
by jervaulx
Summary: In which Mori Manami fulfills her vow. "I am going to marry the man who plays the piano better than me." /Sequel to Once Upon a Time/


_disclaimer: I do not own Kin'iro no Corda_

**The Promise**

"_Promise me we'll meet again someday?"_

"_I promise."_

"_Pinky swear?"_

"_Pinky swear."_

Propped on the bench languidly with her blonde hair gently dancing with the wind, she basked herself under the rooftop's breezy atmosphere. Her posture reflected her state of mind very well: calm and satisfied, while she replayed the episode today.

Her first day in Seiso Academy was surprisingly productive and tolerable; she had managed to befriend most of her classmates in a nick of time and even stole a "few hearts at first glance" as the guys joked. They weren't terrible at all, as she had expected; quite the contrary. When the last period in the morning concluded, the girls in class—those unwary of her social status (not that she minded anyway)—had sat with her in the cafeteria, where they chattered until the siren rang, signaling the end of lunch break.

"See you later, Mana-chan!" They said in farewell and an episode—a memory—of a faceless boy calling her by that name flashed unbidden before her eyes.

"_Stop calling me that! I hate the sound of it from you."_

"_What do you want me to call you then?"_

"_Mana. Mana-chan."_

"_All right, Mana-chan..."_

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she had smiled and nodded at them before settling on her assigned seat, just a chair away from the window. Said chair was occupied by a lad of azure hair, his head turned to the glass panel, looking far away and beyond, lost in his thought. As if sensing she was drilling holes on him, he had whipped his head and stared at her through cool and penetrating hazel eyes with such intensity she looked away so fast she swore she heard her neck snap.

Recollecting that scene now, she reddened for, despite the sun's blinding glare behind him, she had gotten a good look at the fellow and might she admit that he was gorgeous? Definitely gorgeous.

_And yet there was something uncannily familiar about him..._

The door burst open that moment, effectively interrupting Manami from her musing. Standing before her with a hand resting on the knob was the blue-haired lad who intrigued her so. He blatantly looked her over from head to toe and back, his brows raised. Her heart beat was far from normal.

"Uh, will you be using this place?" Flustered, she asked, gesturing with a flick of her wrist to the violin case clutched on his hand.

He took his time in answering her, eying her through hooded eyes. "No," he replied shortly and with not so much as a smile, headed back to where he came from. As he turned away, she thought she saw something glimmer beneath his collar when the sun's beam reflected upon him before the door was shut.

And the funny thing was, it looked exactly like her grandmama's necklace she presented to someone once upon a time. She thought of a ludicrous picture—that the someone may actually be him! An amused chuckle escaped from her lips. How absurd! This man, whoever he was, was absolutely nothing compared to the boy she had met, although she remember not his face or his name.

Come to think of it, she didn't know this man's name and persona either. He seemed too frigid, domineering. He looked superior to anyone, as well, but he did not intimidate her the least. He must come from a very good family, she reckoned, if people could put up with such character. But the question is which family did he come from? Does she know them? Given the number of celebrated people she was acquainted to, it would be no surprise if she recognize his name . . . or confused him with another.

She got up, sighing. She had enough thinking on that day and wished only to get home.

* * *

**.**

Her fingers flitted from key to key like birds of spring, creating music so gentle and heartfelt. Immense in the depth of emotions in her playing, she failed to perceive an audience listening to her with curiosity, his amber orbs centred only on her. She let out a sigh as she played the last notes, content.

"Are you planning on sitting there all day?" drawled a cool voice from the doorway after seconds passed of complete silence.

Turning on her seat, she frowned disapprovingly at Len. The day after their encounter in the school's rooftop, she had contrived to ask his name from one of her friends, who looked at her oddly before providing her with an answer. Apparently, he was a well-known figure in the campus, son of renowned musicians, and only those sleeping under a rock would not recognize him—someone like her.

"How did you enter the room?"

A brow quirked, surprised by her exasperated tone. "The door was unlocked . . . and I had the misfortune of hearing you play." There it was again, the calculating gaze boring into her, making her self-conscious.

"Well, I apologize," she retorted with an unladylike snort, not the least bit sorry. Ignoring the looming frame close by, she started playing Beethoven's Fur Elise to calm her infuriated nerves. How dare he call her performance horrible? Not in small words but he had implied it otherwise in an _impolitely courteous_ way.

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed his violin was unfathomably nowhere in sight, his arms crossed on his chest with an arrogant expression on his aristocratic facade, which she may add, was a perfect embellishment to his perfect features. Aside from his unreadable eyes, she found his state of clothing disturbingly inappropriate; he looked like he was ravished, his first two buttons open and blue kerchief loose on his neck.

But what caught her eyes was the jewelry dangling on his throat. Her irritation dissipated like ashes after a ranging fire, her mollified anger shifting to quivering surprise.

"Where did you get that?" she demanded, the authoritative effect ruined by the shaking in her voice.

For a moment, a flick of bemusement crossed his features before closing in to impassiveness. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"That!" She pointed at his collar where his—her—necklace twinkled, seeming to mock her. "Where did you find it?"

"What makes you think I found it lying on the corner?"

Her eyes widened, her hand over her palpitating heart. She had somehow lost the ability to stand from her chair. "Th—Then who gave it to you?"

He took his time replying, caressing the necklace in the design of a key along his skin. Finally, in stolid yet gruff tones, he said, "I seem to recall a girl of six, dressed in white, crying her heart and eyes out over the demise of her grandmother as she handed it this to me, promising that we would see each other again someday."

That was probably the longest sentence he had spoken, ever since they were children. Making sure her legs were steady, she pushed back from her chair and came to him in measured steps. "It's you, right? The b—boy from years ago? You're not playing tricks on me, are you? B—Because my onii-san would kill you and I wouldn't really want that."

"So you're still the dependent Manami. Tell me, how is Mori Mamiru-san?"

There was no doubt about it now. She all but threw herself at him, her arms coming around his slim waist, squeezing the life out of him. Astonished by her bold actions and unused to this show of affected, Len debated on what to do. In the end, he gingerly raised his hand and laid it on top of her head.

"Why didn't you tell me? Where have you been all this time?"

"Why didn't I tell you what?" He ignored the second question and Manami didn't seem to mind.

"That you are here. That you know who I was from the beginning. That you didn't tell me who you were," she concluded indignantly, stepping back yet keeping her arms where they were while they both regarded each other. She had to crane her neck to look at him. How tall he have grown, she thought, her annoyance forgotten for a moment. She could remember him as a boy now. Although tall, there had not been much difference in their height, unlike now. Nostalgic for the old, short days, she turned her head away.

Len resisted the urge to roll his eyes because of her melodrama. He had talked to Mamiru, Manami's brother, and the older fellow had articulated his sister's dramatic acts. It would seem that he had spoken the truth, though Len had not believed it at first, believing that it was some sort of brotherly ridicule like those he often witnessed on television. "Why do you we were transferred in this school and thrown in the same class? Our parents have orchestrated these events."

"Well, I thought papa sent me in this school because of its favourable reputation and facilities. After all, they went here when they were at our age. Are you surprised, mad, at them for organizing everything?" she asked carefully, peeking at him to see his expression.

He remained composed, saying in clipped tones, "It's not for me to decide."

Silence ensued. Manami let her arms fall away, taking two steps back. He only stared at her, fathomless, trying to read her thoughts. Her eyes never gave it away.

Slightly uneasy by her steadfast, blue gaze, he said curtly, "What are you thinking?"

"I wonder if Aoi-kun is around here somewhere." She had the nerve to grin impishly at him. She knew how the two boys opposed the other.

"God help me."

She laughed, relinquishing a soft, genuine laughter which he thought only Mori Lena could bring forth. It reminded him of a peaceful torrent from a flowing river.

Perhaps this little princess could turn to a goddess, like her mother, after all.

* * *

**.**

_Sigh_. "Do you believe there is anything significant in it?"

"Of course. It was my grandmama's last words."

_Sigh_. "Did she say something about bringing me along with you when you receive it?"

"Yes, Le—Tsukimori-kun." She visibly bristled, annoyed. "You may now quit sighing and interrogating me about grandmama's wishes."

_Si_—

Manami faced him before he could release his pent up breath, her palm out. "The key, please."

He raised a brow but did not question her intentions as he unclasped the necklace she had given him with a childishly soft muttered, _"Take care of this" _when they were younger, which he had accomplished throughout their years of separation. She'd bequeathed it to him after the burial of her grandmother, an old woman with the mind of a twenty-five year old. She was, perhaps, the first person he had opened up to.

Handing it to her, she turned away and stalked inside her room. A moment later she emerged with an old book, aged and worn on the sides. She sat on her bed, patting the space beside her for him to seat on. He shook his head.

"Don't you want to read it with me?"

"No." _So straightforward._

"Are you not even curious?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"All right. But don't blame me when embarrassing rumors about you spreads around the school someday."

In an instant his weight depressed on the mattress, tilting her sideways while she regained her balance. She hid a triumphant smirk.

"A very good decision." She patted his shoulder. She slid the key on its padlock, turned it, and it unlatched with a sound _click. _Grinning widely at him, she carefully opened the diary. "Now then . . . "

The next hour was spent reading through Grandma Mori's journal, her entries emitting snickers and giggles from her granddaughter.

_- It was vastly entertaining to see the heir of the Tsukimoris argue with my granddaughter. The lad just could not win. How could he when she is always in the sensible side and he on practicality? _

On some pages Manami flushed and squirmed in discomfort for her silly expeditions, expeditions which Len erupted with silent amusement and smirks.

_- I am so proud of my Manami. If I been a young, robust man with a healthy heart, I would have whooped and cheered when she wrestled the boy down on the ground. I could hardly blame her for her actions. I would have done the same if someone stole a stand of my hair. _

There were even passages about their mutual friend, Kaji Aoi, whom both had not seen and heard for ages now.

_- The lad frequently tugs on my granddaughter's beautiful, blonde hair nowadays. I swear that Kaji kid is envious of her! I would not be surprised, really I am not. _

_- And once again, the Kaji kid and Tsukimori kid are bickering. I cannot help but wonder why they always go back on the topic on who found my granddaughter first during her sixth birthday party. _

On the latter entries the humor simply died down, replaced by wishful thinking and sympathy for the grandmother who struggled and suffered but was at peace in the end.

Her last entry broke the depressed spell hovering overhead. There, in bold and capitalized letters, were Grandmama's last words:

_- Don't fall in love with Len-kun, Manami. I know you more than anyone. Don't fall in love with my Manami. You both deserve someone much better._

Silence reverberated across the room, both parties lost in their thoughts after their initial embarrassed astonishment as they weighed in Grandma Mori's final message.

Manami broke the deafening eeriness. "Grandmama is being fanciful, Tsukimori-kun. I don't love you." She flushed beet red as he lifted a brow at her. "I—I mean, I like you well enough but you're not exactly my, err, type."

He released his nth sigh, glancing at her bowed head. "So you're holding on to your promise?" Len had never seen anyone grow redder than they already are. Manami's smoking face proved him wrong. Before her reaction could border hysteria, he lifted a hand and placed it on her head, the same way he did in the music room a week ago. "You won't find one in Seiso Academy."

"Are you saying no one's better than me?" she beamed.

"No. It means no one can surpass me."

"What do you mean?!" she practically screeched. Had Len taken up the piano? Then he could outmatch her skills, for sure, if he played it as superbly as the violin.

But he only shrugged as a means of a reply and came to his feet, leaving her staring at his back, dumbfounded, as he exited the cream walls of Manami's room.

* * *

**.**

Len cloaked himself inside his cold shell once more. Yet in their private time together, Manami saw the man behind the masquerade, a man in need of friendship and trust, no matter how hard he tried hiding it.

And so, in her prayers, she prayed for a woman who shall change her dear friend's view of the world and that he may one day remove himself of his unwanted burdens.

She also prayed for her own—for a man who'll stay with her until the end of time and treasure her like Len and Aoi did. She hoped that someone had called and wished for her, too.

Grandmama had wedged herself through their lives yet again and truthfully, she was gladdened by the prospect of keeping her beloved grandmother alive in her heart and mind. She had reopened Manami's safely kept Pandora box and liberated her long-ago memories, forgotten treasures, an infrangible vow.

"_I'm going to marry the man who plays the piano better than me."_

Ah. The promise. How she looked forward to it.

* * *

**Author's Note**: _Len was a bit out of character. Apologies! It's hard to interpret his words and actions._  
_This, my dear readers, is the sequel of **Once Upon a Time**. It was written before the said story and now was recently revised to accommodate its prequel. Cheers to cheerfulhoshi and TheSchoolNerd for their moral support ;)_

* * *

**.**


End file.
